Lord Grace reclined in what must have once been a very grand wooden chair beside the window, graceful fingers toying with the golden ropes that tied the drapes back. His hair was washed and in an emerald silk head wrap that might very well have covered a years’ wages for the measly staff of the crumbling manor he found himself in. His matching banyan robe and fine sleeping gown underneath would have covered ten times as much.
His servant, Aldman, had just finished brushing out his coat from the day and was hanging it in a grand bureau against the wall, which faced a large bed that had seen better days. The sheets would need replacing, the blankets, perhaps even the mattress. The canopy was fine enough, Lord Grace supposed, but he didn’t much like the faded burgundy color that matched the drapes of Lord Albert’s quarters.
“We’ll have to do a complete redesign of this place, my friend,” Lord Grace said, letting out what most would consider a theatrical sigh. Nearly comedic, in fact.
Beside the door, Lord Albert remained standing ramrod straight, staring into the distance with a glazed look in his eyes. His jaw sagged just so, his hands trembling from too many hours without a drink for his constitution to abide.
“You will sleep like that today, I think. It will do you some good. Then you can report to that grubby little doctor in your employ and tell him you’ve taken ill. Afterwards, sleep in the miserable excuse for a guest room your staff prepared for me. These will be my quarters for the foreseeable future,” Lord Grace explained to the man, his words imparting just enough power in them to force Lord Albert’s hands to stop shaking. Before dawn, when he retired to bed, he’d see to it that Aldman gave the man a dose of good brandy.
“Aldman,” the viscount called out to his servant, “my nails have never shone so beautifully. Your skills are improving,” he complimented him, unconcerned by Aldman’s silence. A man without a tongue had very little to say, after all.
“The body is to be discarded in the river. Further from the village this time. We don’t want needless concerns or commoners getting superstitious. You may see to that once I am resting. As usual, once I retire at dawn, no one is to enter this room. Am I understood?”
Aldman nodded curtly. He very rarely made mistakes, and the few he’d made had cost him enough to warrant utmost care in following instructions to the letter.
Lord Grace continued, “I think in the evening, I’ll wear the scarlet and gold number. Something for a real entrance when we dine. By tomorrow evening, I want the entire county to know of the fine guest Sommer Steppe has brought. Then we’ll see about staffing. I can’t abide how shabby this place looks. I’ll need to send a letter to my solicitor, and perhaps summon several of the staff at the townhouse. Tomorrow I’ll prepare a list of necessities, and I expect you to ensure they arrive promptly,” he peered through the window as he spoke, eyes fixed on a trio of girls down in the gardens fast at work by a well. Maids. He’d seen one of them earlier that night, he realized. Quiet. A nervous creature, he mused. Rather like a small bird.
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“My, my,” he whispered to himself, “such lovely hair.” Glancing back at his servant, Lord Grace smiled as warmly as he could - - which was to say very coolly, but without the promise of murder, “Aldman. Prepare some letters for my tailor as well. The tight-lipped one in London. Have him bring along a modiste. Someone who doesn’t talk too much.”
Aldman bowed in ascent, kneeling at the foot of the bed to open a large trunk retrieved from their carriage. He pulled out several cotton sachets which he placed strategically about the bed. In them were mixtures of earth and flowers. Night-blooming jasmine and foxglove were some of Lord Grace’s favorites. They allowed him to be more restful, while imparting a little strength. Or so he liked to believe. It was what his maker told him once, before the creature had shuffled off into the night and left him with few other scraps of knowledge to live off.
Fortunately, he’d always been a good study in life, and seventy years of death had served him well enough. Lord Grace had encountered few others of his kind in England, but he didn’t hesitate to consider himself one of the smartest of the lot.
Once the bed was properly made, Lord Grace gestured for his servant to leave without so much as another word. They’d been together for nearly two decades. Some things simply didn’t need to be said.
Just to the side of the window, behind his chair, there was a small table with a try on it. He’d placed a freshly-filled glass of blood and a half-finished book there to enjoy before retiring. Reaching behind him with elegant fingers, he snatched up both and looked back out the window. The girls were still there. Two of them, at any rate. He pondered how many maids he would need to fill the staff. There was so much dust caked into the very walls of this room alone, it might very well take an army to properly scrub the place clean top to bottom.
“Now, where was I,” he whispered, flipping through his book until he found the cloth ribbon marking his spot. “Words cannot paint the horror of the Princess’s situation. Alone in so dismal a place, her mind imprinted with all the terrible events of the day, hopeless of escaping, expecting every moment the arrival of Manfred…” He read aloud to himself. The Castle of Otranto. He’d been meaning to finish the damned thing for some years now, perhaps this little visit to the countryside would be just the excuse he needed. A far cry from the religious and philosophical texts he voraciously consumed in life, these modern stories could be quite entertaining. At least one wasn’t expected to believe what was written in them.
He lowered the book into his lap and took a sip from his glass. Tepid, now, but good enough. It still suffused him with some sense of vitality. Life.
“Perhaps,” he mused to himself, “it’s time I finally tried something new.” He looked back out the window. Conversation with himself was becoming dull. Conversation with Aldman even worse. He had a mind to do something about that. He could do with the entertainment.